


Just Like All Those Girls

by cimorene



Series: Just Like Verse [1]
Category: Arashi (Band), Johnny's Entertainment
Genre: First Time, M/M, Sexual Fantasy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-28
Updated: 2009-12-28
Packaged: 2017-10-05 09:46:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/40343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cimorene/pseuds/cimorene
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just the thought of that is hot, for Jun, it's - he can't get it out of his head and he's getting hard thinking about her breasts (with Aiba's hands on them, Aiba's long fingers on the neck of a low shirt, the lacy edges of a coloured bra showing), and - <em>breasts</em>, he likes them, like miniskirts or women's shoes, he appreciates good ones and he can tell bad ones, but he's never yet got a hard-on over breasts without Aiba's hands on them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just Like All Those Girls

**Author's Note:**

> First published October 2006. Thanks to Elfie Pike, Isilya, and Lilah Anne.

The girl's lips are red, glossy and perfectly made up, against Aiba's ear. Without turning to stare Jun can't judge exactly how pretty she is, but from the corner of his eye he's formed an impression of not very, but she definitely knows how to use makeup. He doesn't turn his head to stare but continues browsing through a rack of leather jackets while Aiba turns towards her and gasps, "Miko-chan!"

Jun has never heard the name, but Aiba and Miko-chan must know each other - she hugs him, and from the way Aiba is leaning Jun suspects he is touching her arm or her back. He's saying something and she's leaning close to him, talking in a low voice; both of them laugh, and there's invitation in every line of Miko-chan's body, from the tips of last year's suede boots to the high round breasts mounded half out of her wide-necked yellow sweater.

When Jun takes an armful of clothes behind them into the fitting room (he doesn't catch Aiba's eye, but Aiba is paying full attention to the girl), Aiba's hand is on her hip, and she is so small that her hip makes Aiba's long, slim hand look big and blunt and tan, but, Jun thinks, in a good way, it looks good there, like Aiba could cradle both her hips completely in his hands, Jun can picture it on the dance floor.

He tries on a foil-print shirt with something that might be meant to be a rock star on the front, a cardigan grunge-stencilled with English words he doesn't bother to read and barely registers, a yellow motorcycle jacket with a racing stripe that makes him look like Uma Thurman. He's carried two pairs of jeans that are two sizes too small into the fitting room and he can't put them on at all. Jun catches himself staring in the mirror, but he's not seeing himself, he's seeing Aiba's hand on that girl's hip and her lips on his ear.

He wonders if Aiba's ever fucked her before, if he will again or now, what Aiba will say when she asks what he is doing and if he's busy right now or whether he wants to see something she just got at her apartment. He pictures them lined up on the dance floor again, the girl leaning back against Aiba's chest with a miniskirt riding high on her thighs, touching Aiba's leg, Aiba's hands on her waist and outlining the curves of breasts through her shirt.

Just the thought of that is hot, for Jun, it's - he can't get it out of his head and he's getting hard thinking about her breasts (with Aiba's hands on them, Aiba's long fingers on the neck of a low shirt, the lacy edges of a coloured bra showing), and - _breasts_, he likes them, like miniskirts or women's shoes, he appreciates good ones and he can tell bad ones, but he's never yet got a hard-on over breasts without Aiba's hands on them.

It's not ordinary; it's probably to do with last night, the way all five of them fell asleep in Jun's livingroom after a few hours of movies, and normally Aiba wouldn't fall asleep so thoroughly on top of Jun nor sleep so soundly, but Aiba seemed to be coming down with something and had completely exhausted his stamina, so much so that his voice was going scratchy and thin before he fell asleep and Jun didn't want to disturb him - and Aiba is so sweet when he sleeps. It was weird, Jun knew even last night, when they woke up in the middle of the night and the lights were off and everyone else was asleep under their blankets and Sho had moved off the other end of the futon, that he didn't move away. But Aiba murmured "Jun?" sleepily, his voice low and so rough it made Jun's throat itch, and twisted a little, sighing contentedly when Jun's hand slid accidentally under the edge of his shirt. Jun's petted Aiba before, of course, but he's pretty sure it went too far last night, or almost too far, anyway, with both of them so sleepy and defenceless and the barely-audible satisfied noises that Aiba made.

Those sounds are playing in Jun's head now like a goddamned porn soundtrack, and it's almost a problem how well he knows Aiba and all the faces Aiba makes, and, after last night, the noises he makes and the feel of Aiba flinging a leg over him half-asleep; he imagines Aiba's leg over the girl's and those tiny breathless noises hummed into her neck and her hair; Jun can almost see the way the muscles would flex in his thighs, the girl's dark red fingernails biting into his arms...

Jun forces himself to stop thinking about it and fastens the button on his blazer to hide the hard-on, which is totally visible in these pants.

When he comes out of the dressing room, Aiba's standing with his hands on his hips listening intently to the girl but not touching her, and she's handing Aiba his phone back. She walks away smiling brightly, but Jun thinks she looks disappointed (and she's definitely not _that_ pretty, and while her outfit is cute and the teased hair isn't too trashy to go with it, she really doesn't know how to accessorise).

Aiba doesn't glance at Jun till he waves goodbye, but then he turns around unerringly, like he has known where Jun was all along. "Sorry about that," he says cheerfully, and Jun expects _something_ about the girl who had her mouth on his ear and her hand practically down his pants, but that's all.

"Who was that?" says Jun.

"That? Oh, Miko-chan is one of my parents' neighbours," Aiba explains, but he doesn't sound especially interested in the subject.

When they're walking down the street again five or ten minutes later, though, and Jun slides on his sunglasses and asks, "Have you ever slept with her?", Aiba isn't surprised.

"Well, we made out once a couple of years ago," he says seriously.

"Oh," says Jun. "Masaki."

"Hm?" Aiba's carrying a shopping bag in one hand, brushing hair out of his eyes with the other (though it's windy so it does no good), and Jun still can't stop thinking about his hands.

"Do you want to come back to my apartment?"

"Now?" Aiba blinks.

"Yeah, now."

"Okay, sure!" says Aiba, and immediately starts glancing around for the nearest train station.

It's already getting close to rush hour, so they have to stand. Aiba is looking around, face cool and alert; even when he is calm and possessed, which Aiba frequently is (it's just that when he isn't calm, he's _so_ ridiculously far from it), he's still _interested_ in what's going on around him, _interested_ in something all the time. A very pregnant woman gets on the train after three stops, and in the slight crush of people stepping back to give her room to reach a seat, Aiba lets go of his overhead ring and steps closer to Jun - automatically, gracefully, and he's not forced against Jun by the crowd, because it isn't quite _that_ crowded yet, but his body is positioned with instinctual awareness of where Jun's body is; Jun can almost feel something in the space between them, like a charge.

He can feel something else, too, in _him_, like a strange pressure low in his chest, like a hot bubble trying to expand his ribcage from within. Aiba edges closer to him, right into Jun's shoulder, when a cluster of five schoolgirls pushes past them, and the feeling trembles on the verge of tearing free. The train is swaying and Aiba's weight is on one foot, and Aiba is looking away from him, and Jun is feeling Aiba's hip bump casually against his and the tension in his own body, seeing the fantasy superimposed on reality, like -

Aiba's profile striped from the shifting light of the window _lipstick-red lips brush against Aiba's ear_. The birthmark peeping out from under the sleeve of Aiba's shirt _glossy red fingernails dig into Aiba's silky naked shoulders_. Aiba's mouth parted absently as he glances out the window _Aiba arches his back like a cat with a low hum of pleasure_. Aiba's long slender fingers as he shifts his grip on the shopping bag _Aiba shapes the girl's waist and cups her ass to draw her closer_. Aiba's jeans sitting almost too low on his hips _hands clutch Aiba's back and push his shirt out of the way_ -

Jun relives the feel of Aiba's back under his hands last night, heated skin, bumps of spine, the curve of his waist, that tiny shiver when Jun touched the nape of his neck _Aiba holding the girl's thighs_ -

The train goes around a curve and Aiba sways against Jun, and Jun moves to steady him, puts his hand on Aiba's back, feeling his belt and the line of the waistband of his boxers through his shirt. Aiba isn't startled, of course, and probably wouldn't be even if Jun put his arm around him. He doesn't glance at Jun, just says half to himself, "I wonder if I'm going to get a cold."

"I think you are," says Jun, but he's still thinking about Aiba waking last night, but only halfway, and muttering "Jun?", his voice thick but plaintive - not asking if Jun was there, because he was already curled against him with one hand tangled in Jun's shirt, he knew where Jun was; he was demanding to be touched, and Jun thinks now: he might have thought _hey_ at the time, he might have felt some warning, but he didn't hesitate, he murmured "Hm?" and "Sh" so quietly his mouth didn't even open, stroked the side of Aiba's neck with his thumb and then slid his other arm under Aiba and pulled him closer still. He didn't hesitate.

Aiba turns his head, eyes wide in inquiry. "You think so too?" he says. "You noticed it?"

"Everybody worries about you, Masaki," Jun reminds him, halfway between smiling at Aiba's innocence (of _course_ they all do) and gruffness - get too far on this subject, as experience has shown, and one of them will probably start to cry.

"Yeah," Aiba agrees meekly. "That's right - my throat was kind of sore in the morning." Then he smiles at Jun - "Today too! That's right. I hardly noticed today. Thank you for the tea." - and the pressure in Jun's chest turns slippery. He woke up with one arm trapped under Aiba today, and blinked around for a few minutes while Sho and Nino whispered on the other side of the room and Ohno sat silent and sleepy in the nest of blankets where he and Nino had slept (totally shirtless, not just halfway like Aiba); then he realised that he couldn't move without waking Aiba, and went back to sleep.

When they're walking from the train station to Jun's building, he asks Aiba finally, "Why _didn't_ you?" He knows some of the girls Aiba has slept with, but he doesn't know many, or a lot about them; he doesn't know what kind of girl Aiba likes, so maybe Miko-chan is too short for him (maybe Aiba does not like to be so gentle - Jun can imagine Aiba rushing in his eagerness, Aiba losing control, his mouth falling open), or too slutty (maybe Aiba is careful, maybe he likes to take his time - and Aiba would, when he's really interested).

"Miko-chan, you mean?" says Aiba.

"Yeah," says Jun.

"Today?"

"Or ever."

Aiba seems to need to think about it a little. "The first time I didn't really have time," he offers.

"Wait, _time_?" Jun asks incredulously.

Aiba walks with one hand in his pocket, in the compact, smooth steps that call attention to his hips and thighs. "Time, yeah," he says.

Jun says helplessly, "It doesn't take _that_ long," but Aiba just shrugs.

"I was going somewhere - I think it was karaoke. No, maybe it was going out of town? Was that when Ohno's play was in Osaka?"

"That girl," Jun points out, "looked ready."

"Matsujun!" Aiba laughs.

"Like maybe, if I hadn't been in the dressing room - "

"That's so _wrong_," Aiba says.

"I think ten minutes would be enough," Jun persists. "I'm just saying. If you didn't even have ten minutes..."

Aiba's giggling too hard to answer as they get in the elevator at Jun's building, and he collapses against the back of the elevator (against _Jun_) just as Jun pushes the button for his floor. "It's not like that," he gets out between fits, shaking his head.

"Then what is it like?"

Aiba purses his lips and tilts his head. "Maybe more like five minutes, actually, if you asked her...." They both burst out laughing again. Aiba's still giggling when they reach Jun's apartment, and he flops into the nearest chair to catch his breath. "Ah, it's really a problem, though, when girls are like that," he tells Jun solemnly.

Jun crosses his arms. "Oh, of course. When you don't want to waste too much time on _inefficient_ sex" (which might, Jun suddenly realises, be what Aiba was thinking - who knows how Aiba thinks? But Jun could see Aiba wanting the way that works the best) "it's a big problem if the girl is in a hurry."

Aiba wrinkles his nose, sort of like the faces the rest of them make when forced to sample his culinary experiments. "You know, if it's 'I'm in a bit of a hurry, let's go ahead and make it quick!', that's okay. And if it's 'I'm turned on, so hurry up,' that's okay, but if it's like, - "

He lunges from his seat and has a surprised Jun backed up against the bookshelves before he even realises he's stepped back, with Aiba's hand coyly on his arm and Aiba's mouth on his ear. Aiba's doing a pretty good impression of Miko-chan: "'Aiba-_kun_, it's been _such_ a long time! Mmm, let's, let's just - " and his voice goes low and husky, not at all matching the mincing falsetto of a moment ago, but Jun doesn't really mind, he likes Aiba's real voice better any day, especially if it sounds like - "I came in my _car_, Aiba-kun, do you need a _ride_ anywhere, can I just - take your clothes off right here in public, God knows what someone acting crazy like me would do, maybe I actually _do_ want to eat you - "

Aiba's not giggly, but rather sounds awed, as if he's seriously considered the possibility that slutty fangirls are interested in cannibalism and not fucking and finds it scientifically fascinating as well as frightening. His hand is on Jun's belt-buckle, fiddling with it rather than unfastening, and his pinky finger pushes up under the edge of Jun's shirt and Jun feels dizzy for a moment, trying to remember that Aiba is just imitating Miko-chan, it's not Aiba, it's not -

Aiba stops. He's pressed against Jun like a flirtatious girl or like Nino hanging on Ohno, like the purpose of his pose is to let Jun sample at least a little piece of every part of his body, a hint of chest to chest, a hint of belly, a hint of his thigh brushing against Jun's leg. Aiba has stopped talking and moving, but Jun can still feel Aiba's even breaths on the side of his face as he strokes up from the small of Aiba's back to a shoulderblade, pushing Aiba's shirt out of the way as he goes, and back down again; Jun _hasn't_ stopped, he's not even sure at what moment he _started_ to touch Aiba, but now that Aiba's silent and still he is sure Aiba has noticed, which he didn't seem to at first when Jun started touching him.

The pulse is fluttering madly in Jun's throat; that tightness is back in his chest, as if it will burst open, and he's so aroused only from this, he's hot all over - he might be just like those girls. Jun's other hand is tight around Aiba's arm; his fingernails are pale yellow and a dark wine colour today, and when he sees them biting into Aiba's arm he thinks, _Ah_, this is what was bothering him about that image before: the small girlish hands clutching desperately at Aiba's arms and shoulders. Seeing _his_ hand there makes it so clear. This is it, his hand on Aiba's arm, his other hand lingering so slowly and exquisitely on the sharp curve of Aiba's spine that Jun can hardly breathe when his thumb trails through the fine hairs in the small of Aiba's back.

"Masaki, you might need to stop me," Jun says, about the time he lets go of Aiba's arm and puts both hands low on his back instead and slides them down into the back pockets of Aiba's jeans.

"_Stop_ you?" Aiba murmurs distractedly, "from what?" and dips his head, his open mouth settling gently on Jun's neck, warm and wet. His lips move in an experimental caress and Jun, unable to speak, makes a choking noise and tilts his head helplessly to let Aiba investigate more - he nibbles the tendon and purrs, "Oh Matsujun - just let me - " his voice already gone low and sticky with need.

The few remaining centimetres of space between them vanish slowly as Aiba licks and nuzzles under Jun's ear to the curve of his shoulder, but it's hard to separate the sensations, let alone to think, with Aiba doing those things to his neck. And _Aiba_, he's so - careful, thorough, but he's not cautious as Jun thinks he should perhaps have expected, he's _eager_. He whispers approvingly against Jun's neck, "You taste like - like - " and then "Amazing!" and then, wonderingly, "Ah, I'm so turned on!"

That's when Jun gets impatient and grabs Aiba by the hips, and Aiba moves forward willingly till his hips fit snugly against Jun's and he braces his feet apart, his breath catching audibly, and grinds a slow circle against Jun's thigh, leaning heavily on Jun and putting his arms around Jun's neck.

"What - " Jun isn't sure what he should ask, so he gives up for the moment on thinking and just thrusts back against the pressure, tightening his grip, feeling the tense muscles of Aiba's buttocks flex in his hands as he grinds up again, feeling that deep stir of heat like a quivering of his foundations, like sharp stinging sparks in his _bones_. And still there's a slender cold thread of fear in Jun's chest somewhere, and the question, _What am I doing?_ Because this is _Aiba_, strange gorgeous gentle silly Aiba, and Jun is so into this, so into _him_, he feels like he's been turned on since last night.

Aiba sighs in Jun's ear, _"Ah,"_ a faint hiss of pleasure and frustration. He wriggles impatiently, twisting his hips in Jun's grip as if he could get closer, though there's not much between them now except clothes, and tightens one arm around Jun's neck. He's stroking slowly down Jun's arm with the other hand, from shoulder to wrist, so slowly that by the time he gets to the wrist Jun's _arm_ has become an erogenous zone, and then Aiba wraps his hand firmly around Jun's forearm and Jun fumbles his hands under the waistband of Aiba's jeans. Aiba's hand on Jun's arm twists and he whines, _"Jun."_

It's _still_ hard to think anything except _Aiba, Aiba_ \- Jun is still shocked by himself last night, shocked by how badly he wants Aiba now, but all the little sounds Aiba makes go straight to his cock, Aiba's voice breathless and uneven is the sexiest thing he's heard, and Aiba feels so good against him, his sharp hipbones, his cock hard on Jun's hip, his hair brushing Jun's face.

Jun backs Aiba away from the bookshelf and the books that are digging painfully into his back, and Aiba stumbles a little; Jun's got an arm around his waist but he still pulls back and says "Huh?"

"The books," Jun explains, not the complete sentence he thought he would produce, but Aiba's stroking the side of his neck almost absent-mindedly, and then Aiba bites his lip and starts to smile and - that's it, Jun thinks hazily, and leans forward -

He feels the shock go through Aiba's body when their mouths touch, and freezes, but Aiba's bending closer, he tilts his head and his mouth angles, soft and inviting, against Jun's lips. Jun's belly lurches and contracts sharply with heat; Aiba's lips are damp and taste faintly sour and Aiba-ish, he's known Aiba forever, Aiba's smell, of course, but that's not what Aiba tastes like, and for some reason that surprises him - and Aiba's kissing him again, tilting his head, again, harder, again, threading his hands into Jun's hair and this time he doesn't move away, lingers on the curve of Jun's upper lip slow and curious. It should be awkward to kiss Aiba, Jun thinks, it's only fair, because it's sure as hell bound to be awkward for him later at some point because of this, but it's not awkward at all, because Aiba kisses like he knows what he's doing, smooth and intent on his slick light kisses tracing the shape of Jun's mouth, but he doesn't fight it when Jun opens his mouth and licks past his lips.

Aiba hums a little, makes some kind of sound like he was going to talk, but he obviously isn't complaining; his hands are smoothing restlessly down Jun's back now, probably counting every rib, lingering at his waist and clutching there when Jun seizes his head and stills it to kiss deeper - his mouth is hot, so wet, and the way he sucks at Jun's tongue feels dirtier than some of the things Jun was imagining him doing on the train today, and in the fantasy he was _naked_.

Jun traces from Aiba's chin to the hollow of his throat with his thumb, then moves his hand down Aiba's chest to his belt, and stops there, tangling his fingers in the buckle. It takes Aiba a moment to notice when he pulls back from the kiss, maybe, from the way he blinks dazedly, but Jun says in a low voice, "Masaki - " his chest feels tight but he ignores it and waits; there, Aiba meets his eyes, his mouth wet and reddened. "Come to bed with me," says Jun firmly, not a request, a command, and Aiba's eyes widen.

But he says immediately: "Yeah," with an expression Jun can't decipher, "yeah, Matsujun, let's go," and backs up a step, and follows Jun silently into his room. The blinds are mostly closed, half the bed and a slanting line of floor glowing faintly in dim half-light, a few dust motes dancing over the crumpled edge of the coverlet where Aiba stops, his back to the window, the whites of his eyes sparking faintly. His chest rises and falls quickly, his erection pressing against the front of his jeans. Jun closes the door.

He sheds his shirt quickly and drops it behind him on the floor, tugs on his belt as he walks, but drops it instead to catch Aiba's hands as he starts to strip his own t-shirt off. Aiba stops in surprise with his hand at chest height. His face is puzzled, until Jun breathes, "Don't, I want to do that," and slides his other hand up the naked skin of Aiba's torso as deliberately and luxuriantly as he's wanted to. Aiba's stomach jumps under Jun's hand and he shivers when Jun does pull the shirt off. His eyes are huge.

Aiba's hands hover uselessly in the air for a moment when they're free of the shirt, but then he reaches out and touches Jun, spreading his whole hand flat on Jun's stomach as if he is feeling for something. He doesn't look at his hand at all, though, but at Jun's face. His mouth is slightly open as if he wants to say something, but he just licks his lips, quickly but deliberately, and slides his thumb under the top button of Jun's jeans.

Jun wants to push him down on the bed and - he doesn't know, well, he _knows_, but he doesn't know where to start - and he wants to touch him, all over, but right now he wants to touch Aiba's face, so he does. Aiba tilts his head elegantly into Jun's hand, his eyelids drooping a little when Jun traces down his temple, around the corner of his eye; Jun steps closer and almost kisses him again, but the feeling of Aiba's hands brushing skin as he finishes unzipping Jun's pants stops him.

"Don't stop," Aiba says, quietly, into the centimetre of moist air between their mouths. The sound rises at the end, like a question. Jun moves his hand to Aiba's lips then, finds they feel how they look - full, soft, the surface just a little wrinkled and chapped from the oncoming cold, damp and a little swollen, and Aiba holds his head still but his eyes are saying everything, wide and unblinking but smoky with promise.

Jun leans open-mouthed in to kiss him, without even bothering to get his fingers completely out of the way first, and makes the kiss purposeful and dirty. If Aiba can suck his tongue like he's starving for the taste of cock, Jun can do just as well, he's _good_ at sucking cock, he can make Aiba _want_ it so bad he breaks the kiss off to say breathlessly, "_Jun_, your clothes - "

Okay, Jun thinks, right, clothes, and he steps closer, crowding Aiba up against the edge of the bed - Aiba makes a little noise and only _then_ does Jun realise he's already got Aiba's pants open, that happened while they were kissing, and he's gripping one side of the fly so tightly the button's cutting into his hand. He doesn't know what he wants more - to undress Aiba himself, with his own hands, slowly, god, every piece of him, _Jun's_ hands on Aiba and not some girl's, or to have Aiba naked already.

When Jun pushes, Aiba falls immediately onto his back on the bed, hooking his legs around Jun's and squirming to get his feet on the mattress as Jun crawls deliberately between his thighs. Jun kneels there and pauses for a disoriented moment - Aiba's legs spread, splayed around him, pants sliding down his thighs, boxers dragged down on one side to expose pale skin in the hollow of his hip.

That is hard to resist, too hard. Jun leans forward over Aiba so his body is blocking more of the light, and touches that little hollow of soft skin carefully, watching Aiba as he lays his hand over Aiba's hip and slides his boxers down. "I was going to do this slowly," Jun confides. He hasn't felt this before, his hands skating over skin he feels like he's never touched, the smooth muscles of Aiba's ass and flank.

"Fast," Aiba orders at once, lifting his hips to help, "the other part slowly if you want, but - " He's left naked and aroused once the pants are gone, Jun straddling one of his legs and practically kneeling in his lap, and he's - yeah, _naked_, and aroused, with just barely enough sunlight pouring over him from the half-closed blinds to show the lines of his body, slim but not fragile, elongated but not awkward; his narrow chest, his graceful neck and stark collarbones, his long legs folded around Jun and his cock erect and dark.

"Yeah," Jun murmurs, low. He puts one hand high on the inside of Aiba's thigh - skin hot, muscles tensing at his touch - and Aiba starts to reach for him, starts to sway forward, but then their eyes meet and he stops and stares at Jun for a long moment, just breathing.

Then he drops his hand and leans back slowly and invitingly, like he's melting into the bed, his thigh going relaxed and pliant under Jun's hand: "Yeah, fast?" he asks, his voice dropping notes, half an octave, uneven and rough - "Or yeah - this part slow?" His other hand is low on his belly and he's just _waiting_, his face serious and beautiful and almost unreadable with the window at his back, but when Jun leans close his breath catches, his mouth open, and he arches up when Jun slides his hand to the damp crease of his thigh and brushes his cock.

Jun moves over him and bends his head to kiss just the corner of Aiba's mouth, a tiny teasing touch. He can't see what he's feeling with his hand now - warm skin, Aiba's cock hard and hot as he slowly wraps his hand around it -, he only sees flickers of expression on Aiba's face, his eyes falling shut, and then nothing after he tucks his head in the curve of Aiba's neck, the skin salted with sweat, smooth, taut but yielding over tendons, thin over the jutting collarbones.

"Ah," he hears Aiba whispering, "good, Jun, Jun - " Jun nuzzles the hollow of Aiba's throat and feels the pulse pounding there. And he makes a loose circle of his fist and slides it slowly up.

Aiba stops talking. "Slow," says Jun, into his ear.

"Mmm," says Aiba. The leg folded next to Jun moves, and Jun feels it nudge his hip, wrap halfway around him. He's still, he realises dimly, wearing _pants_.

Jun's not able to control his voice - he's trembling inside with heat, like the rush of arousal from the train has hit him all at once, like he's shivering apart into multiple pieces along deep fault lines. He can't help that his voice is uneven. "Now," he says, "touch me."

"Touch you?" Aiba repeats, voice hazy and breathless, almost as if he might laugh. "Touch you _more_?" But he's not that confused. He's already doing it, spreading his hands out at Jun's waist, moving them firmly and knowledgeably up, a caress halfway to becoming a command that somehow turns Jun on even _more_. Aiba pauses with his fingertips lined up along the groove of Jun's spine: "Like how, Matsujun? Touch you like this?"

Jun arches into his hands and says tightly, "Fine - ", trying to brace his elbows under him so he won't simply collapse on Aiba.

"Aaah," says Aiba, throaty and breathless and smug, curling his leg more snugly around Jun's hip.

Jun changes his mind then, " - No, a lot more than that - ," and then "_yes_," when Aiba moves his hands again, down over Jun's ass and up the backs of his thighs, tracing delicately along the inner seam of his jeans and then up to push Jun's pants down, and Aiba licks his lips.

"Can I?" Aiba breathes without pausing, when Jun's pants and underwear are halfway to his knees.

Jun manages to laugh, "I'm not a _girl_, Masaki," even though saying that gives him a flash of those images again, Aiba naked and breathing fast and a girl straddling him - again that surge of arousal, but -

"If you were you'd be naked already," Aiba mutters, and they both laugh, but Jun pushes himself up and struggles out of his pants. Aiba doesn't stop touching him the whole time - Aiba's always enthusiastic about following directions, but he doesn't touch Jun like that, he touches Jun surely and meticulously like he's not going to miss an inch, like he knows exactly what he's doing, like he's trying to fill his hands up with the feel of Jun's skin. Jun understands how _that_ feels exactly: like last night, his hands under Aiba's shirt, Aiba half-asleep nestling against his chest, the blind expanse of warm skin under Jun's hands like some precious illicit secret, and Jun hardly able to stop himself.

He kicks his pants off and lies down on top of Aiba at last, his cock at Aiba's hip, Aiba's legs wrapping around him, Aiba pinned under him and pressing up urgently against him, hands insistent in the middle of Jun's back. He's already rocking his hips, and Jun can't help but thrust back, and it's so hot, incredibly hot having Aiba clutch at him as if he's _surprised_, shift against him and grind up against him, staring at Jun searingly, a knowing look full of recognition. They're both getting sticky with sweat. Jun wants to kiss him. They're probably moving too much.

"Matsujun, I'm going to touch - " says Aiba, leaning up on his elbows a little, "I'm going to touch you more, like - let me - " and Jun does let him, lets Aiba push him over on his back and climb on top of him, whether because Aiba asked or because he wants Aiba to touch him.

"Five minutes," Jun jokes.

"Sorry," Aiba says, and it's almost a sigh, "I'm going to need longer than that, I think." He has both hands on Jun's chest, caressing almost absent-mindedly as he puts his mouth on Jun's neck again.

"Mm, Jun," he whispers appreciatively under Jun's ear, tracing lightly down Jun's side with one fingernail, making Jun break out in goosebumps and shiver involuntarily; Aiba rides the shiver, moving against Jun and with him so it's only natural to thrust again, and again. He rolls with Jun's movements as smooth as liquid, his face not smiling but pleased, his mouth open, eyes bright and satisfied.

"Oh, good - " he sighs, and bends over and kisses Jun's belly, at the edge of his ribs, and follows the line of Jun's ribcage down with his mouth. "Mm," he says, and then "It's _sharp_, Jun is so bony!" It's such an Aiba thing to say, but Aiba doesn't sound like himself, he's breathless but hushed and preoccupied, stroking Jun's hipbones and licking his navel.

"Think you could manage ten minutes?" Jun says sarcastically. He doesn't sound sarcastic, though; he mostly just sounds turned on, because right then Aiba touches Jun's cock with his fingertips, and then before Jun can even catch his breath he leans in and licks at the tip, trying out the taste.

Then he smiles and looks up at Jun, wrapping his hand carefully around Jun's cock and making Jun make an undignified gasping sound. He looks wickedly smug, with reason: Jun didn't know just the _threat_ of a blowjob could make him this wound up. "Well, I'm not sure because I've never done it before," Aiba says, "but I guess it's up to you now: can _you_ last ten minutes? - Mm." Apparently he likes the taste - which is probably the best news Jun's heard all day, he just wishes Aiba would - he licks again and moves his hand -

"Ahh, um," Jun pants, "five's probably enough..., " but then he stops being able to talk, or do anything at all, when Aiba lowers his head and sucks Jun's cock inside his mouth.

That doesn't stop _Aiba_ from talking, of course - even though mostly his mouth is occupied, he finds time to murmur "I'm not really sure how to - " and "You like that" (which can't be a question, even Aiba would not ask a question that stupid) and then he pulls back and meets Jun's eyes, wet lips still hovering right over the tip, and breathes, "I want the rest of my ten minutes later."

"Yes," says Jun, "as much as you want, of course, Masaki, just - " and Aiba does.

His mouth is soft, hot and slick and Jun can feel the ridges of his palate, a clumsy scrape of teeth, his tongue uncertain but willing and eager; Jun's had better, but it's _Aiba_, and Aiba _wants_ it, licking and sucking and making those satisfied humming noises _on his cock_ and Jun - Jun wants it too, Jun wants Aiba. He thrusts a little too hard and Aiba chokes and recoils, and his lips slide over the head, and it's like Jun starts to unravel, sharply, in a shock that ripples through his body.

While Jun lies there trying to remember how to make his muscles work so he can unknot his fists from the sheets, Aiba licks his lips, then licks them again, thoughtfully; there's still come on his chin, and his eyes are glassy with arousal, and he looks so - Jun can't get it up again, but just looking at Aiba like that makes his insides hot, makes something tense in helpless desire behind his ribs.

"Come here," he says, sitting up.

Aiba blinks for a second before crawling up into Jun's lap again, straddling one of his thighs. "Here? Like this?"

"Yeah." Jun gets a firm grip on his hips and pulls him up on his knees. Then he wraps his lips around the head of Aiba's cock.

"Whoa, - _ah_," says Aiba, and grabs behind Jun to brace himself on the headboard. "Ah - ah, _Juuun_." His thighs are trembling already. Jun bobs his head a little and presses with his tongue. Aiba's cock is slender like Aiba, a little on the long side, very hard. Jun loves the taste of a cock getting harder, getting wetter in his mouth, the curls around the base getting musky with sweat and sex; he's loving the taste of Aiba, and the way Aiba stares down at him, trying to keep his eyes open though they keep fluttering closed. Jun flexes his hands on Aiba's hips and decides to let him have just a hint of teeth - which not everyone likes, but Jun knows what he's doing, he gives excellent head, and Aiba is always up for anything.

_"Ahh,"_ Aiba hisses, clutching at the wall, thrusting into Jun's mouth, and Jun relaxes his grip just a little and lets him, thinking: yeah, _yeah_, because he knows how that feels, he knows how good it is; thinking: _no_ girl could be this good, they just couldn't. "Can I," Aiba says, "can I just - "

"Yeah," says Jun with his mouth still full of Aiba, urging him forward with hands on his hips until Aiba's bowed over him, his head hanging and his eyes closed, face contorted with pleasure as his hips jerk. Aiba is totally abandoned, can't form words and can't stop making those soft whines and grunts of pleasure that turn Jun's brain to a haze of lust.

Jun slowly goes as far down as he can, pushing the boundary of his gag reflex; Aiba whimpers and then begs, "Jun, _please,_"; and Jun sucks, hard, and moves his tongue, and Aiba's body goes stiff and he comes in Jun's mouth.

Aiba tries to pull away, but Jun's hands tighten on his hips, holding him in place, and he keeps sucking until there's no more come and swallows all of it. When he's finished Aiba has moved from leaning on the wall to leaning on Jun, his hands tight on Jun's shoulders, and as soon as Jun's grip relaxes he crumples into a heap in Jun's lap, breathing hard.

Aiba's arms where they're draped around Jun's neck are sweaty, his chest is sweaty, he's sticking to Jun with sweat; there's come on his chest and Jun's belly, and they're sitting awkwardly, Jun's legs folded in front of him, Aiba's spread to either side and his left ankle digging into Jun's right knee. But Aiba isn't completely still; the fingers of one hand are threaded into the hair at the back of Jun's neck, stroking gently, little circular movements that Jun can hardly feel now, but which he knows from experience would gradually turn into a massage if he let them.

He doesn't let them; instead he kisses the side of Aiba's face and says pointedly, "I'm going to get under the blanket," and they shift around until they both have.

There is plenty of room for both of them in Jun's bed, but Jun puts his arm around Aiba before he lies down all the way, and Aiba says "Oh!" and scoots closer, curling into Jun's side.

"I don't think that was ten minutes," Jun remarks dryly on a yawn.

"Definitely wasn't," says Aiba emphatically into Jun's spare pillow, a little muffled. "Not even close."

"Mmm," says Jun, and closes his eyes to contemplate sex and why it's so great. The next time he wants to say something, Aiba is asleep, so Jun shrugs to himself and goes to sleep too.

Jun wakes up a few hours later and still nothing is awkward. Aiba's lying on his stomach propped up on his elbows, coughing quietly into his hand; it's the sound of coughing that woke Jun, but when he mutters thickly, "Water?" Aiba shakes his head no.

"No, I'm fine, it's okay," he says, waving a hand in Jun's direction.

Jun drops it. "Glasses," he says instead.

"Huh?" But Aiba reaches out and finds the pair Jun keeps on his bedside table without even having to look (although Jun wishes he would, because he almost knocks over the alarm clock): "Here."

Jun is ready for the world to look shaken up once it comes into focus, but that doesn't happen - he's still him, it's still his bedroom, it's still Aiba and Aiba is still coughing and also, still naked and still hot, and still not awkward. Although with his glasses on Jun can see all of that more clearly, and he starts laughing.

"What?" says Aiba.

Jun shakes his head. "There's still come on your face." He gets up and opens the blinds to let in the light; it's late afternoon, close to dinnertime, which is good because he's hungry.

"Okay!" he hears behind him, and turns to see Aiba standing next to the bed and stretching so elaborately he almost does a backbend. "I'll take the first shower."

Jun crosses his arms and raises an eyebrow.

Aiba stops and blinks at him. "Um..." he says, "well - together then! All right?" Jun hesitates, and Aiba puts an arm around his neck and leans into him, tilting his head close so for a second he breathes on Jun's ear, making nerves that were still asleep tingle awake with interest.

"All right," Jun says, a bit too quickly.

"That was kind of strange, wasn't it," Aiba remarks, leaning on the wall with his arms crossed while he waits for Jun to finish washing his hair.

"What was? The sex was pretty vanilla." Jun closes his eyes and puts his head under the water, which is a mistake as it turns out, because what Aiba says next causes him to sputter and choke:

"No, you getting turned on by Miko-chan. - Matsujun? Sorry, are you okay?"

"Yeah, yeah," says Jun, wiping his eyes and coughing. "_What_?"

"I mean, you don't sleep with girls," Aiba muses.

"I don't," Jun says firmly, although Aiba wasn't really asking.

"So it's weird. And I wouldn't think Miko-chan was your type. _I_ didn't even want to fuck her. I mean, can you even imagine, with someone like that?" ("I can," Jun mutters.) "I don't like girls who are so fake - what?"

"I said, I can," Jun repeats. "I can imagine." Aiba's staring at him blankly, hair dark with water and all slicked back from his forehead, his mouth parted in confusion. "I could imagine her with _you_," says Jun, "today, I was," and then Aiba smiles.

Slowly. "Was I good?"

Jun smirks. "Looked like it."

"Mm?" says Aiba, getting closer and taking the soap out of Jun's hand. "What did I do?"

"Danced," says Jun, "really dirty. And touched her breasts. And fucked her - if you're not going to use the soap give it to me and use your hands to touch me instead."

Aiba makes a sound like he is starting to giggle, but forgets what he was doing and purrs instead. "I can do both," he says, and puts an arm around Jun. "But it wouldn't matter if she wasn't acting all gross, you know, or it was some other girl who was sexier, I wouldn't - ah - have gone..." his voice trails away dreamily as he smoothes his hands over Jun's ass.

Jun puts his hands on Aiba's hips again and pulls him a little closer. "Oh, really?"

"Mmm," says Aiba vaguely, with his mouth on Jun's neck and the side of his face, drinking the hot water as it runs over his skin, "I didn't want to fuck anyone today." Jun might laugh at that in other circumstances, but with Aiba rubbing against him he doesn't really feel like it. "I mean," Aiba adds, "except you."

Aiba was right before. Even if this isn't awkward, it is strange. Aiba saying that is strange. Aiba kissing his neck and running soapy hands over him is strange: Jun has shared showers with Aiba before, but until today he's never shared one with a sexual partner. And it wasn't Miko-chan that did it for him today, he knows. Thinking about her touching Aiba turned him on in an angry way that had nothing to do with her and everything to do with the fact that it was Aiba she was touching. Jun doesn't know what to do with any of that.

None of it except having Aiba in his shower. Jun has never shared a shower with anyone he was having sex with before, but that part isn't hard to figure out. Aiba's standing behind him now, slowly touching his stomach and the tops of his thighs though the soap has been rinsed away, and pauses when he breaks out coughing.

"Oh," says Aiba suddenly, "you'll get sick too!"

"It's already too late," Jun points out.

Aiba chuckles. "That's true," he says, like Jun has made a good joke, and reaches past Jun to turn off the shower. Jun turns around and kisses him until the water running down his back and over his shoulders from his hair turns completely cold and Aiba's fingers are digging uncomfortably into his shoulders. He doesn't have to know what to do with all of it yet. Just knowing what to do with Aiba is enough.


End file.
